


The Last Journey

by twitchbell



Category: Lord of the Rings - Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-05
Updated: 2010-04-05
Packaged: 2017-10-08 17:40:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twitchbell/pseuds/twitchbell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo reflects on his life as he prepares to leave Middle-earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Journey

When it came down to it, Bilbo found that he had few things he needed to take with him.

He stood at the window of his empty room looking out across the ravine. A patched and stained cloak and hood that seemed slightly too large for him lay about his shoulders, and in his hands he held a small pack containing those possessions he was unwilling to leave. There were not many for he'd given much away: the Books of Lore to Frodo; pipes to Merry and Pippin; gold to Sam. No, the most important things that he would carry away from Rivendell lay in his heart and were memories, memories of an Age that was drifting now beyond recall.  
   
He thought back over the eighteen years he had called this room his own. It was a fair room with a pleasant aspect; a bright and sunny room looking across the ravine to the woods beyond; a quiet and peaceful room that he had once thought would be his last home. And now he was to make one more journey after all.  
   
"It is time to go, little master," Elrond had said to him. And Bilbo had known what he meant.  
   
Elrond's eyes were clear and bright still, yet a well of sadness lay behind them and his face was often grave. No longer was there joy for him in Middle-earth but when he departed, Arwen would be lost to him while the world endured, for now she was Queen in Gondor and wife to Aragorn.  
   
Bilbo smiled a little sadly. He would have liked to have seen his old friend again before he left, but time had marched on too quickly and on Aragorn's shoulders fell the task of ordering the new Age. Messages of farewell there had been, but there could be no returning to the old Age; the days of song and friendship they had shared in the Hall of Fire were gone forever.  
   
Bilbo thought back beyond Rivendell and to his journey to the Lonely Mountain. The smile deepened as he remembered his friends - the dwarves, the men of Dale, Beorn, the Wood Elves, and Gandalf. Few now remained of the company who had set out from Hobbiton; death had claimed so many - Thorin, Bard, Balin. Yet as was the way of things, others had been born and grown to take their places.  
   
He thought back still further, to the Shire itself and to the quiet, unremarkable life he had lived there for so long. He had changed and grown, but the Shire had not.  Life continued there as it always had and would remain the same when he had gone.  Bag End would be a home for others, and perhaps echo again to the sound of many young Hobbit voices.  
   
For life, as he had remarked often enough, was a story and it was one which would go on even after his small part in it was over and ended. The years would pass and the tale grow in the telling; the children of his dearest friends would write the new chapters and make the story their own. Much that had passed would be forgotten, he knew, yet maybe the memory of his Age might in some small way be preserved. He could hope at the least for that.  
   
Bilbo's face was tired as he turned from the window.  He was an old and weary Hobbit, and yet he had been privileged to know that which was high and beautiful beyond the dreams of most of his kindred and at the last he had been given this grace - to take the final road into the West. Many fair memories would travel with him.  
   
He looked up as Elrond quietly entered the room and answered the question in his eyes:  
   
"Yes, Master Elrond, I'm ready to go now," he said.  
   
THE END


End file.
